was pretty funny.
That alone was proof I shouldn’t have been here.
“Sit before you fall over. Put your head on this semiclean towel here.”
He patted a rolled-up towel. Penis dropped the scalpel and walked up to it.
“Your pet is getting amorous with the towel.”
“Just the inside. You’ll have your head on the outside.” That made a warped sort of sense. I weaved over to the chair and managed to sit down without falling over. The elephant was really going at it, his tiny elephant hips a blur. After a few more thrusts he trumpeted and walked away.
“I want a new towel,” I said.
“You’re such a little girl.” McGlade tossed the towel over his shoulder and placed a pillow on the table. “Head down, princess.”
I complied, resting my ear on the towel. Just a few inches away, Penis stared at me. It was a prurient stare. His trunk extended and he sniffed my nostrils. I had a bad feeling he was judging their depth and flexibility.
“Get him off the table,” I said. “I don’t trust him.”
“He’s fine. He won’t hurt you.”
“He looks like he’s sizing me up.”
“Don’t worry. He’s got a long refractory period.”
“Off the table, McGlade.”
“Fine. Sheesh. You’re some kind of animal hater, you know that, Princess Talon?”
“I want my nose to remain a virgin.”
McGlade grabbed the elephant and set him on the floor. Then he picked up a bottle of iodine.
“First I’m going to sterilize the area. Then it might get a little, um, uncomfortable.”
The iodine felt warm, almost soothing.
The scalpel wasn’t soothing at all.
“Hold still. I don’t want to rupture your eardrum.”
He brought down a magnifying lens on an articulated arm, then went at it. I tried to stay still, wishing I’d taken the morphine. It felt like . . . Well, it felt like someone was jabbing a scalpel in my ear.
“All headphones have a very tiny external jack, for updating the firmware,” McGlade said. “A guy I know, he made a nanochip that can reflash the bios. It cycles WLAN channels and piggybacks on nearby users, which means free calls via Wi-Fi. Of course, it also works for people who get their headphones disconnected. Not really good with long distance, but it’ll do for a hundred miles or so.”
I wasn’t paying attention to him, my jaw locked on the corner of the pillow in an effort not to flinch and Van Gogh myself.
“Okay, I’ve exposed the jack. This is the tricky part. Don’t move.”
He ripped open a small plastic package, taking out what looked like a dental pick.
“Chip is in the tip. I place it into the jack, and we’re good to go.”
“What’s that slurping sound?” I said around the pillow.
“Suction hose, sucking up all the blood. Stay still.”
He jammed the pick in my ear, but it was sort of anticlimactic, and I only wished for death twice instead of the five times I’d wished for it when he was using the scalpel.
“There. Now I’m going to use some living stitches. This might sting.”
I’d been stung by bees before. Living stitches felt like I was having my skin pulled off with hot pliers. I may have cried a little. Or a lot.
“Okay, we’re good. Let’s work on that hand.”
“I think I want the morphine,” I said, shaking my leg. The elephant had wrapped himself around my ankle.
“Don’t be a baby, Talon. Living stitches aren’t that bad.”
“Have you tried them?”
“Several times.”
“And you didn’t scream?”
“Of course not. I passed out before I could scream. Gimme your hand.”
After a liberal dose of iodine, he draped some living stitches over my hand. Living stitches were a synthetic fabric seeded with genetically altered bacteria. The germs were packed with human codons, specifically the genes that repaired skin. A miracle of modern medicine. But the rapid healing involved the little buggers reopening the wound and rearranging the cells, which hurt more than the damage they were repairing.
After my third scream,
That alone was proof I shouldn’t have been here.
“Sit before you fall over. Put your head on this semiclean towel here.”
He patted a rolled-up towel. Penis dropped the scalpel and walked up to it.
“Your pet is getting amorous with the towel.”
“Just the inside. You’ll have your head on the outside.” That made a warped sort of sense. I weaved over to the chair and managed to sit down without falling over. The elephant was really going at it, his tiny elephant hips a blur. After a few more thrusts he trumpeted and walked away.
“I want a new towel,” I said.
“You’re such a little girl.” McGlade tossed the towel over his shoulder and placed a pillow on the table. “Head down, princess.”
I complied, resting my ear on the towel. Just a few inches away, Penis stared at me. It was a prurient stare. His trunk extended and he sniffed my nostrils. I had a bad feeling he was judging their depth and flexibility.
“Get him off the table,” I said. “I don’t trust him.”
“He’s fine. He won’t hurt you.”
“He looks like he’s sizing me up.”
“Don’t worry. He’s got a long refractory period.”
“Off the table, McGlade.”
“Fine. Sheesh. You’re some kind of animal hater, you know that, Princess Talon?”
“I want my nose to remain a virgin.”
McGlade grabbed the elephant and set him on the floor. Then he picked up a bottle of iodine.
“First I’m going to sterilize the area. Then it might get a little, um, uncomfortable.”
The iodine felt warm, almost soothing.
The scalpel wasn’t soothing at all.
“Hold still. I don’t want to rupture your eardrum.”
He brought down a magnifying lens on an articulated arm, then went at it. I tried to stay still, wishing I’d taken the morphine. It felt like . . . Well, it felt like someone was jabbing a scalpel in my ear.
“All headphones have a very tiny external jack, for updating the firmware,” McGlade said. “A guy I know, he made a nanochip that can reflash the bios. It cycles WLAN channels and piggybacks on nearby users, which means free calls via Wi-Fi. Of course, it also works for people who get their headphones disconnected. Not really good with long distance, but it’ll do for a hundred miles or so.”
I wasn’t paying attention to him, my jaw locked on the corner of the pillow in an effort not to flinch and Van Gogh myself.
“Okay, I’ve exposed the jack. This is the tricky part. Don’t move.”
He ripped open a small plastic package, taking out what looked like a dental pick.
“Chip is in the tip. I place it into the jack, and we’re good to go.”
“What’s that slurping sound?” I said around the pillow.
“Suction hose, sucking up all the blood. Stay still.”
He jammed the pick in my ear, but it was sort of anticlimactic, and I only wished for death twice instead of the five times I’d wished for it when he was using the scalpel.
“There. Now I’m going to use some living stitches. This might sting.”
I’d been stung by bees before. Living stitches felt like I was having my skin pulled off with hot pliers. I may have cried a little. Or a lot.
“Okay, we’re good. Let’s work on that hand.”
“I think I want the morphine,” I said, shaking my leg. The elephant had wrapped himself around my ankle.
“Don’t be a baby, Talon. Living stitches aren’t that bad.”
“Have you tried them?”
“Several times.”
“And you didn’t scream?”
“Of course not. I passed out before I could scream. Gimme your hand.”
After a liberal dose of iodine, he draped some living stitches over my hand. Living stitches were a synthetic fabric seeded with genetically altered bacteria. The germs were packed with human codons, specifically the genes that repaired skin. A miracle of modern medicine. But the rapid healing involved the little buggers reopening the wound and rearranging the cells, which hurt more than the damage they were repairing.
After my third scream,
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